


Rho-fourteen

by Highlander_II



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, BDSM, Community: smutswap, M/M, Master Spike, Master/Slave, Slave Xander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/pseuds/Highlander_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hellmouth was destroyed.  The demons and other supernatural creatures poured into the city (L.A.) and Spike helped Angel fight them.  However, the fight took years and the demons were stronger and had larger numbers, leading to an uprising that put them in charge.  Humans became slaves or food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rho-fourteen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gryvon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryvon/gifts).



Rho-fourteen dropped to his knees as he heard the key in the lock to the door of his cell. The door opened to reveal the handler and Rho-fourteen's new owner. Rho-fourteen folded his hands at his back, made sure his knees were spread wide, exposing his cock and balls for his new owner to inspect. He lowered his head so he could only see the floor.

"He's well trained," said a British accent that floated over his head.

"Yes, sir, he is," the handler said, his voice dripping with the desire to kiss the buyer's ass and prove that the training was top of the line. "We train them to anticipate every need."

" _Every_ need?" the Brit asked as he stepped into the cell, kneeling next to the slave and reaching a hand between his legs to conduct his inspection.

There was no reply, but Rho-fourteen knew the handler was grinning like a fool and nodding eagerly. He'd seen it a few times before when he had been new and could get away with looking around more freely.

"Good," the Brit said. "Unchain him for me so we can go."

"Of course, sir. You have paid for him after all," the handler agreed, then moved to unlock the chain connected to Rho-fourteen's collar.

The chain fell away. The lack of its weight was strangely unsettling. He'd been chained in this room for months, only leaving to be put on display for potential buyers. The heavy chain was almost as much a part of him as the collar and the cuffs he'd worn since he'd been brought here.

He remained on his knees until he was instructed to stand and follow. His new owner clipped a leather lead to the collar. Rho-fourteen caught a glimpse of white-blond hair and a black leather sleeve. The accent, the hair, and the jacket led him to think he knew who this was. But the last time he'd seen him, things were very different.

There had been a big hole where the Hellmouth had been. Buffy had saved the world. And him - Spike, the stupid vampire with a crush on one of his best friends - he'd been burned to a crisp helping to save the world. That was five years ago. Before the demon resurgence. Before most of his friends had been killed or captured. Before _he_ had been captured.

The demon uprising in L.A. hadn't gone well for the non-supernatural folks. Humans were beyond out-numbered. Those who weren't outright killed were taken prisoner and 'reconditioned' as slaves for anyone who would pay the right price.

Rho-fourteen had been one of the 'lucky' ones by some standards. Imprisoned by the demons and trained to follow orders. Following orders kept him fed and alive. Most days, he wished he had been killed during the uprising. It would mean he didn't have to sit in fear wondering which creature would 'purchase' him, but then he'd hear tales of 'The Slayer' stopping another pack of demons or vampires and his hope would return. The hope that The Slayer - whichever one - would save him.

But The Slayer hadn't come. Spike had. He was still confused about that. How was a dead vampire able to purchase a slave? Was Rho-fourteen dead now? Was this some form of hell? He was ready to pray it wasn't that last one.

Descending the stairs toward the sewer tunnels shouldn't have surprised him - he was the proud purchase of a vampire - but he figured a vampire would collect his purchases under cover of darkness. That assumed it wasn't actually dark anyway. Spending so much of his time in a single cell with no windows had completely ruined his sense of day-night cycles.

The glass and broken rocks on the ground hurt his feet as he walked. He tried not to hiss or grunt in pain. Though, he jumped when Spike said, "Oy! What is all the bellyaching?"

Rho-fourteen tried to curl in on himself as he glanced down at his feet, sore and bleeding.

"Bloody hell," Spike grumbled. "Wait here," he said and hitched the lead to a hook on the wall. He was gone only a few minutes, returning with a pair of shoes. Spike used the sleeve of his duster to clean some of the debris from Rho-fourteen's feet, then put the shoes on him. "That should hold 'til we can clean you up."

His feet felt much better. Still painful from the cuts, but better. He followed Spike through the tunnels to his crypt. His new crypt. A significant upgrade from his previous digs. This looked like half a mansion had fallen into the ground nearly intact. Given the destruction left behind when they closed the Hellmouth, it was entirely possible.

"So, this is your home now. You do what I tell you, when I tell you. And don't give me any lip."

"Yes, Master," Rho-fourteen replied with the standard title for one's new owner.

"Huh," Spike grunted. "They do train you well. What name did they give you?"

Rho-fourteen shook his head, eyes focused on the ground. "No name, Master. I am called by the designation Rho-fourteen."

"Really?" Spike seemed to ponder this for a bit. "Will you answer if I call you by your real name?"

"I have no name. I am known by Rho-fourteen, Master."

"Right. Got that. But, if I call you 'Harris' will you respond?"

Rho-fourteen nodded. "I will respond to whichever designation you provide for me, Master."

"Desig - I'm going to call you Harris… or Xander. Don't you remember your own bloody name?"

Rho-fourteen shook his head. "I am only -"

"Right. Right," Spike said and showed Rho-fourteen around his living space. There was a section of a living room, a bathroom with an uneven floor - though it did manage to have running water - and a bedroom. Three, actually. There seemed to be other sections as well, but those were the ones Spike had shown him. After the tour, Spiked cleaned and bandaged Rho-fourteen's feet.

Rho-fourteen thanked his new Master profusely for the first aid and knelt to kiss his Master's boots, as was customary. Spike walked away before he had finished. He was confused, but figured he had thanked Master to his liking.

He had been told to follow instructions, but, so far, Master hadn't given him any. That left him kneeling on the floor, watching Spike move around the room.

He wasn't supposed to speak unless spoken to, so he had no way to request orders without breaking the rules. It was unsettling. He wanted to be useful and to behave as he had been trained.

It took several weeks for Rho-fourteen to come to terms with the fact that his Master wasn't the sort to give him commands for everything. So, Rho-fourteen put his other training to use and watched his Master's body language. He learned his routines, his likes and dislikes, and the best way to prepare his mug of blood. Once he had some structure, he was far more effective and comfortable in his role.

He was, however, still growing accustomed to being addressed with an actual name, rather than with his slave designation. The first time it felt comfortable, he had just lowered himself to his knees between his Master's feet. He slid his hands up his Master's legs until he reached the fly of his jeans. He unfastened the buttons, then reached in to draw out the smooth cock. Soft, slow strokes of his hand the way Master liked it, to get him hard, then he leaned in to circle his tongue around the exposed sensitive head.

"Blood-y hell, Harris," Spike groaned and slid his own fingers into Xander's hair.

That's when it happened. There, with Spike's cock in his mouth and Spike's fingers in his hair, he felt something. Something natural about hearing that name. It felt like it was his. He couldn't even remember the last time anyone had called him by his name. He knew it was before he'd been captured, but he wasn't even sure how long he'd been a prisoner.

Still thinking of his name, he finished sucking Spike off. (A task he found far more enjoyable than he had thought he would.) He cleaned them both, then brought Spike a mug of warm blood. Only this time there was a slight pang of wishing Spike would feed from him instead.

He pushed that thought aside as he settled on his cushion at Spike's feet.

* * *

Spike wasn't what Xander had been expecting as a 'Master' based on the training he'd gone through. He'd been expecting a harsh and cruel owner. One who barked orders and issued demands. Even one who would drain him dry and toss him out like trash. He certainly hadn't expected Spike.

His role serving Spike wasn't easy. There was a lot of work he was asked to do. But Spike wasn't cruel to him. While he appreciated that, he never took it for granted. Especially not once Spike did began using him for his blood. Xander didn't mind being a food source for Spike. He'd been letting vampires pay him to feed when he was snatched off the street and imprisoned. It wasn't something he was proud of, but it had kept him in lodging and food when his job wasn't enough anymore. He'd been able to keep it from his friends, to keep them from worrying about him when they had their own problems. He hadn't been able to buy himself protection from the demon slave trade though and now he was here. Spike's slave.

Over all, there were far worse people he could be a slave to. And, with Spike, he might remember some of his past, the part before he was imprisoned. The most he knew, was that he wasn't always a semi-mindless slave. He had vague memories of his friends and the demon uprising - everyone remembered the uprising - but the details had been slipping away the longer he stayed in that cell.

Spike seemed surprised the night he walked into the bedroom to find Xander knelt on the bed, ass in the air, face against the blankets. That was fair - it had surprised Xander too. It was a position of acceptance. It meant that a slave had accepted their Master willingly and was grateful for everything that had been given to them. It was highly desired, but rarely seen. Obviously Spike wasn't prepared. Xander wasn't sure he was prepared either, but he was compelled to offer himself to his Master.

"Harris, are you presenting your ass to me?"

"Yes, Master. Please use me as you wish." Xander's skin warmed at just the thought of Master taking him and claiming him as his own.

His muscles tightened as Spike's cool fingers brushed his hip. But he relaxed into the feel of skin on skin. Xander was glad Spike had never forced himself on him. Spike had requested sex numerous times and Xander had obliged him as required, but it had never been forced actions. Xander appreciated that too. It was a large part of why he was presenting himself to his Master now.

Xander wanted to look over his shoulder. To make sure his Master was preparing to accept his offering. But, as hard as it was, he kept still.

Waiting.

When he felt the bed dip, he held his breath. When he felt Spike's hands on his hips, he settled into his knees. When he felt Spike's cock push against his hole, he finally released his held breath.

The pressure, vaguely burning, but familiar, was welcome. Needed. Xander moaned warmly into the blankets beneath his face. He wanted Master to know that his actions were appreciated - even desired.

"How do you want your reward, Harris?" Spike asked him.

Xander was surprised into a momentary silence. "I - I would like to be fucked hard and fast, Master." It wasn't typical for the slave to be asked their preference for anything. This was one more way Spike wasn't the Master Xander had been expecting.

He felt Spike draw his hips back, then thrust them forward again, pushing his cock deep into his ass. His fingers curled in the blankets. Spike had fucked him before, but something about this time was different. This felt like what Spike had called it - a reward. He was giving his Master his body to do with as he chose. As he desired. Only this time, it's what Xander wanted too.

He wanted to feel Spike's cock slide deep into his ass. He wanted to feel Spike draw back and thrust into him with force that was strong and hard, but not so much that it would break any of Xander's bones. He wanted to feel Spike come deep inside him, groaning deep in his chest with the pleasure of it. He wanted to please his Master with his body. Right now, he felt as though that was his sole purpose on this planet.

"Fuck yes, Master! Use me!" he cried, meaning every word to the point he had tears in his eyes with the joy of it.

By the time Spike finished, Xander was ready to collapse from holding himself in position for so long, but he felt so damned good, like he had given his Master the best gift ever, that he didn't care. He wasn't even concerned if he got to come or not.

In fact, when Spike reached between his legs to stroke his cock, it startled him. But it didn't take long for him to relax into the feel of the cool fingers on his skin. His hips rocked down, pushing his cock into the curve of Spike's fingers. "Thank you, Master," he panted into the blankets. "May I come please?" he asked, voice breathy and only audible as a result of training.

"Yeah, Harris, get on with it."

He spilled himself over Spike's hand and the blankets, then his legs gave out. His muscles would no longer hold him up, as much as he wanted them to. "Thank you, Master. I am yours to use whenever you wish."

"Damn straight. I paid for your ass," Spike growled, but, somehow, this time, Xander thought it didn't sound nearly as harsh as all the times before.

Spike told him he had five minutes to rest, then he had to get up. "Yes, Master," Xander replied. Being a slave to a vampire wasn't a choice he would have made voluntarily, but being a slave to Spike was far better than he thought he would have to endure. And he could accept this. As long as Spike took care of him.

Where else was he going to go? This was home now.


End file.
